Misery Loves Company
by JillSwinburne
Summary: Mac pays Don a visit after the funeral. SPOILERS for the end of season 5. chap 2 is SMACKED
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there folks, how ya'll doin'? Must have had a whole bunch of plot bunnies in my brain this week lol. Anyhoo, this is set after the last episode of season 5 (which I haven't actually seen yet but I've done some research lol). I was just thinking about the hug Mac gives Danny in season 2 when his brother's in hospital and decided that poor Donnie might need a bit of a man-hug as well now.**

**There's a little bit of smacked in here as well if you squint ;)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned it Mac, Danny and Don would be working shirtless ;) Oh and I don't own the story Mac tells either but you get extra TV buff points if you know what it is :D**

**Enjoy.**

**Miser Loves Company**

Flack blinked in the light of the hallway.

"Mac?" he asked with something akin to incredulity in his voice.

It had been Jess's funeral that afternoon and unlike Don who had changed the second he got home Mac was still wearing his suit and tie.

He was also holding a bottle.

"You know what they say about misery and company," said Mac quietly. "I was wondering if you could use a little."

Don couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. When he had heard the knock at the door he had half expected Danny or maybe even Stella. Hell, he would've guessed that it was his sister before he would ever have thought that he'd see the lab director standing on the other side of his door.

He shrugged a little in reply.

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside to let the smaller man past, closing the door behind him.

He motioned for Mac to take a seat on the sofa, throwing himself down in the armchair he'd vacated to answer the door. They sat in silence for several minutes, Don staring at Mac and Mac staring at the floor.

"Did Stella send you to give me a pep talk?" he asked after a little while.

Mac raised his head and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

Don merely shrugged again.

"It's what she does," he said. "Besides, you and I both know she has you wrapped around her little finger since you came back from Greece. I figured maybe she thought it'd be a good idea if you talked to me."

Mac threw him a small smile and shook his head.

"Nope. And for your information Stella does not have me wrapped around her finger."

Don snorted, if nothing else his sense of humour was still intact, if perhaps a little dented.

"In fact," continued Mac with a sigh, "she'd probably be pissed at me if she knew I was here."

"How come?"

"Don't ask me, something about giving you time alone to grieve in private."

Don wondered whether she had given Mac any time to grieve in private after Claire died. He doubted it. On the other hand it was just possible that she had known that Mac would refuse to obey and so had told them to leave him alone on purpose; the woman really could be quite devious at times.

Either way, Mac was here now clearly because he felt he should be and not because anyone had asked him to be and Don took a little comfort from that. Mac Taylor was not a man who did things falsely.

"She'd be especially pissed at me if she knew I brought this," Mac added, indicating the bottle in his hands.

Don managed a slight smirk.

"I'll get us a couple of glasses," he said.

When the drinks were poured the two men sat on the edge of their seats and raised their glasses.

"To Stella," announced Don sarcastically. "What she doesn't know can't hurt us."

"I'll drink to that," replied Mac as they chinked glasses and downed the strong smelling amber liquid.

Don pulled a face.

"Where the hell did you get this stuff?" he gasped.

It might look like whiskey but it tasted more like paint-stripper and he could feel it burning all the way down to his stomach.

Mac grimaced slightly.

"It was at the back of a cupboard," he managed hoarsely. "I think I bought it after Claire died and never finished it. Now I know why."

"This stuff has been fermenting in a cupboard all these years? Damn!"

He coughed slightly and then motioned to the older man.

"Pass the bottle," he said.

They drank another round and Mac removed his jacket and tie, throwing them over the arm of the sofa as Don leaned forward to fill his glass once more.

"You do a lot of this after Claire died?" he asked.

"Drinking?"

"Yeh."

Mac rolled up his sleeves a little and leaned back on the sofa.

"Sometimes. The rest of the time I'd just mope around."

He gazed at the table top.

"You think you're busy because you're life seems so full of pain and grief that it seems as though you don't have time for anything else but really you're not doing anything. You wake up one morning three months later and realise you've been sat in the same chair staring out of the window all that time; but you feel so tired and sick you could swear you'd run a marathon or climbed a mountain or something."

"That what they mean when they say 'sick with grief'?"

"I guess so."

They drank some more of the rot-gut; comfortable with the silence for a while.

"It feels different," said Don after a time.

Mac didn't reply, merely raised his eyebrows.

"My dad died in the line of duty and it was awful but… but it was somehow okay. But this…this isn't okay. This feels worse."

Mac nodded.

"My dad died the year after I married Claire," he said. "Went for a nap one afternoon and just never got up again. You're right, it's shitty but it was nothing like as bad as her."

Don gave him a half-smile.

"Maybe we're just a couple a' saps," he said and Mac returned the smile, raising his glass once more.

"To a couple of saps," he said and Don chuckled slightly.

He knew that in the lab Mac was known behind his back as "dad" but he wondered if they knew how right they were. Danny had mentioned to him that Mac had told him about not having wanted children with Claire, that he was too scared and selfish to be a father and how he had regretted it ever since. He wondered if that was the reason he looked out for them all so much.

Of course it was a boss's prerogative to keep his team in line but Mac really cared. Don could think of few other bosses who would have received the news of Lindsey's pregnancy with such joy, few who would have sat and talked to Danny with such consideration, let alone allowed themselves to be part that surprise wedding party at the City Hall. He could think of few others bosses who would sit in a cramped messy apartment downing vile liquor with a man who technically didn't even work for him, just because his girlfriend had died.

Mac might not think he would have made much of a father but Don knew that wasn't true and he knew that his own father probably would have liked him a whole lot.

"Does it go away?" he asked quietly.

Mac sighed.

"No," he said heavily, "not really. It get's better; after a while you can think about it without feeling sick, sometimes you can even forget it for a while but something always reminds you and it never really goes away."

"So what do you do until it get's better?"

"You get on with life. The job keeps you focused, gives you something to get up for in the morning."

"Or I could just drink," offered Don with another sarcastic smile, proffering the bottle once more.

"The key to drowning your sorrows," Mac informed him, "is never to drink alone."

Don managed another smile.

"Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For being here, you know, just… thanks."

Mac chewed his lip slightly and leaned forward.

"I was watching TV last night," he said, "and I caught the end of some show. There were these two guys, an old guy and a younger guy and they were having a conversation. The young guy had gotten himself into some kind of jam and the older guy told him a story."

Don couldn't imagine where Mac was going with this and could only look at the older man in puzzlement. But Mac was looking at him intently, as though making sure that he was paying attention and he felt compelled to show he was.

"What'd he say?" he asked before Mac continued, his gaze never leaving him.

"He said that once there was this guy walking down the street and suddenly he fell into a deep hole. He jumped and he scrabbled but he couldn't get out. Then a priest passes by and he yells up, "hey father, I'm stuck in this hole, can you help me out?". So the priest writes out a prayer and tosses it into the hole. A little while later a doctor walks by and the guy yells out again, "hey doc, I'm stuck in this hole, can you help me out?". The doctor writes a prescription and throws it down the hole. After a while the guy's best friend passes by and he calls out, "hey Bob, it's me! I'm stuck down here, can you get me out?". His friend jumps down into the hole with him. They guy thinks he's crazy. "Are you nuts?" he says. "Now we're both stuck down here!" The friend turns to him and says, "yeh, but I've been down here before and I know the way out.""

Don nodded silently. If there was one man you wanted to have your back in a tight spot is was definitely Mac Taylor. Ordinarily he would not have said the same of an emotional situation but right now he could think of no one more qualified and no one better to be sitting here with.

Taking the bottle from the table one last time he filled both their glasses and stood, raising his in the air.

"To Jess," he announced as Mac stood, raising his own glass beside him. "I'm gonna miss you."

He felt the tears sting his eyes slightly.

"And to Claire," he continued, causing Mac to raise his eyebrows slightly although he said nothing. "You're husband's a good man Mrs Taylor, I don't know what we'd do without him."

The tears brimmed over and he felt a couple slide down his face. Mac's hand touched his shoulder gently.

"To Jess and Claire," said Mac softly.

"Jess and Claire," Don managed to repeat, swallowing down his drink almost choking as the liquid met a sob coming the other way.

"Hey," said Mac gently.

"I miss her Mac," he said weakly.

And then something happened that was even more unexpected than Mac turning up at his door in the first place. The older man pulled him into a hug.

Don crumpled slightly onto his shoulder, crying freely for the first time since the initial shock.

"I know," murmured Mac gently, patting his back. "I know."

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Don pulled back and managed a grin through his tears.

"You're not gonna tell anyone about this are you Taylor? I got a reputation to keep up."

Mac returned the smile and shook his head.

"As long as you don't tell Stella about the bottle."

"No sweat."

Mac nodded.

"I should go. You gonna be okay?"

Don wiped a hand across his face and nodded.

"Sure," he said. "Sam's been checkin' in on me and I got you guys watchin' my back."

"Okay."

"Can I keep the bottle?" he asked with a small smile and Mac chuckled.

"Sure, just remember what I told you."

"Yeh. Listen, my sister's a recovering alcoholic and I don't think Danny would drink this crap, I don't suppose I can convince you to be my drinking buddy?"

He looked at Mac sheepishly, a little embarrassed that he had asked but cheered by the smile that Mac gave him as he collected his jacket and tie from the sofa. He patted Don lightly on the arm.

"Any time," he replied.

The two men nodded and smiled at each other and then Don saw Mac to the door.

When Mac was gone Don slid back down into his chair and looked at the bottle which was still sitting on the table.

"I love you Jess," he whispered to the air.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, here's chapter two for you. Sorry Don fans but this part is totally SMACKED!

Across town Mac was standing in Stella's living room. His hostess was in the kitchen fixing coffee. He hadn't felt much like going home. Instead he was standing in her living room looking at a photograph on the mantelpiece. It had been taken during the lab's Christmas party years ago and it showed three people; a man and two women, one brunette, one blonde, all smiling. He had his arms around both of them and they were leaning into him, each kissing a cheek while he blushed and someone in the background waved a sprig of plastic mistletoe over their heads.

Mac smiled at the picture and felt a hand touch his shoulder.

He turned, accepting the coffee mug from Stella as she looked from him to the picture and back with a questioning glance, but she didn't ask.

"How is he?" she asked instead.

Mac frowned.

"How do you know I went over there?" he asked.

"I didn't," she said with a small smile of victory.

Mac rolled his eyes at her.

"He's doing okay," he said.

Stella raised her eyebrows.

"It's only been a week," she reminded him.

"He's a lot less stubborn than I was," Mac reminded her and she smiled.

"Mac, there are donkey's that are less stubborn than you," she informed him.

"Funny," he replied, "I thought you were the stubborn one."

Stella glared at him.

"Unfortunately it's the only way to deal with you," she reminded him.

He grinned back at her.

"Doesn't matter, I like stubborn women."

She laughed but the smile slipped slowly from his face and he glanced back towards the photograph on the mantle.

"Stella," he said quietly. "I miss her."

She took the mug from his hands and set it down before sliding her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"I know," she murmured.

He hugged her fiercely, nuzzling her hair as she stroked the back of his neck lightly with her fingertips.

After a little while she pulled back slightly before leaning in to lay a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" she said and he nodded, a smile coming back to his face.

"What would I do without you?" he asked and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I hate to think," she replied.

She made to move away but he held her close a moment longer, leaning in to kiss her lips gently.

When he moved away she gave him that strange little smile of hers and pulled his over towards the sofa where she curled up with her head on his shoulder.

He hadn't bothered to tell Don that it was possible to move on after something like this. That wasn't something he needed to hear right now. It was a realisation he'd come to on his own in time. Mac just hoped it wouldn't take Don as long as it had taken him. Although, sitting here on Stella's couch, her curly head tucked beneath his chin and his arms around her slim waist he couldn't help but think that this had been worth the wait.


End file.
